Experience Blog 4

When we arrived at the community and they started handing out farm equipment I looked around to find a socially acceptable reason to opt out. I did not pay 150 soles just to do manual labour. It seemed a little too eat, pray, love, and that’s not the type of journey I’m on right now. I approached Lian, and we started to play. In a day that was already feeling quite fabricated, I thought hanging with Lian would at least be fun and I’d be able to learn more about the community. We got chatting and I tried to get him to teach me some Quechua. Unfortunately he told me he only spoke Spanish. He is only five and just starting school, but I still found it peculiar that he didn’t speak it with his parents. 

From stella-ella-ola, rock paper scissors, battleship, and chopsticks, we played most of my repertoire of two player no-equipment sitting games. We needed to move onto multiplayer games, so we migrated to see Cory. I was expecting them to have more Castilian or Quechua names, but Cory and Lian seemed almost derivative of a telenovela. I asked if they watched TV. It seemed like a redundant question because of the looks they gave me and I felt a bit ignorant for assuming otherwise. It took me a moment to translate the titles of the shows they liked, but the media they consume isn’t that different from what Canadian kids are watching. Cory also had his older brother’s phone with him (he was one of the men working on the field) and he showed me the games he liked to play (candy crush, fruit ninja, and plants vs zombies in case you were curious). They had a classic Gen Alpha moment when they told me my phone was boring because of my singular sudoku puzzle game.

At one point Lian took off his poncho to reveal a sick pokemon shirt, but he was quite attached to his colourful hat. Cory was also wearing similar ‘western clothes’ underneath his traditional clothes that I got to see when I cast my “healing spells” on his scraped knee. Their traditional clothes honestly seemed to limit their mobility during play. It felt like as I was peeling back the layers with them, they were revealing less elements of Andean culture and the influence of global media was showing.

Both kids asked me if I had brought any toys with me. Surprised, I said I didn’t know we were expected to, and I asked what toys they liked. The common denominator between the in-demand toys was plastic. This was so unlike the emphasis on natural materials that the teacher had talked up at the school. I felt unprepared that I didn’t have gifts with me, but I did think that if gifts were expected we should've been told and given a list of recommended suggestions. Their question further caught me by surprise because although I was having a great time with them, but maybe they were just being nice to me in hopes that I would share gifts with them. The day was already feeling awfully transactional and I was hoping that playing with the kids would be more genuine. I was happy to be there with them so I continued playing, but I think I was expecting for them to be more tethered to Andean culture. It seemed like there was a superficial performance of Indigeneity happening in the community that was just easier to reveal with the unfilteredness of kids.

However, the day then took a very dark turn. It came up in a joking context when they asked if my teacher, a man of middle age, drank beer. I don’t believe in lying to kids but I’m also not about to openly promote drinking to youngsters, so I said he sometimes drank but not very much. They asked me how much not very much meant, and implied ten drinks. Startled, I said that ten drinks is far too many and one to two is enough and tried to move the conversation away. And then one of them blurted out “sometimes when my dad drinks he hits my mom.” I was completely thrown off but felt a responsibility and need to acknowledge the comment. I searched their faces for any emotion. But I was met with their deep brown eyes searching for my reaction. Like when a kid trips and is waiting to see if you rush to their aid before they start crying to determine the severity of the situation. My response felt extra heavy because I was expected to react and I didn’t have a grasp on their understanding of the situation. I said that it wasn’t right. We do not hurt those we love and care about. We need to show our love with our hugs and kind words. We need to respect those around us and touching people without asking is not ok. I felt a tremendous sense of responsibility. At this point I had only spent just over an hour with them but they were trusting me with information on their lives. I wanted to wrap my arms around them and preserve their innocence, but it was already gone. The least I could do was show them what it’s like to feel cared for, if only for a few hours. So I spent most of my afternoon with them trying to make sure their day was one they could look upon with joy. When I said goodbye to them they each gave me a tender but very wet cheek kiss. I thanked them for allowing me to have such fun with them, because after almost six months of travel, being around the grounding presence of kids made me feel like home wasn’t too far away.

I don’t know if what they said was true. Either way they know there is a connection between domestic violence and alcoholism, which is more information than I believe a child of their age should know. I can’t rationalize the comment as ok, regardless of its validity. It has been difficult to sit with. I also don’t know if it’s systemic, community or just a singular household problem. Regardless, any possibility is tragic. Thinking back to when I went to a Chica bar, it was a significantly gendered experience with primarily male patrons. Reading Andean Lives in the following days with frequent mentions of intimate partner violence and alcoholism reinforced the comments the boy made. Even if it's not a reality with these boys, it is a very real legacy of colonialism. We’ve been trying to see the real Peru, and this felt like all the abstraction of the text we’ve been engaging with got concrete. There’s been this sentiment of trying to find out what modern Indigeneity is in Peru, and I’m thinking it's not contained in language, clothing, or material objects. Andean communities like this one don’t exist removed from technology, speaking just Quechua, and decked out in traditional dress all the time. I think being Andean had been mediated through a shared resilience through generations. 

I’ve struggled the past week with my positionality. In Canada I feel like I have clear guidelines to follow over similar situations, and I’ve been lost. I’ve wondered if our participation in the community as part of a revolving door of people is actually helpful to the boys. I’m grateful I got to share a day with the boys, and I hope I was able to hold space for them. I am glad I know enough Spanish that I was able to communicate with them. This day will stay with me, and affirmed to me that I most definitely want to work with children. Children are raised by a community, and the interactions I saw the kids have with a variety of community members were quite positive. I see hope for Cory and Lian, and I hope the economic gains of the community tours benefit them. In the scheme of their lives, I’m just a little blip. But as someone who retreats into their memories for comfort, I feel those moments of joy can be a calm place to settle. Especially as I don’t have any super clear answers right now for how to break cycles of intergenerational trauma, and even less so when they’re so intertwined with a violent history and the larger narrative of a nation. 

This has been the most difficult blog post I’ve had to write, hence the delay. What we’ve been reading about isn’t just on the page and in the past, but a reality of Peru which is difficult to reconcile. I’ve wanted to give my feelings a moment to wallow and mourn the disempowerment and disappointment I feel. I wish I had more answers or means to implement change, but I’m still just trying to understand Peru. Overall, I’m glad we visited the community. Hanging out with Lian and Cory has been one of the highlights of the trip. They’ve been the Peruvians I’ve connected with the most genuinely. They filled me with a warmth that I’m cherishing dearly. I know they have a lot of love and care inside and around them that I hope will guide them.